Peaceful Bullpen Life [EN]: Chapter 121

Whether I spend the year in any particular way, when I look back, it all feels like repetition.

Listening to my friends, their years as students simply repeat. Then, as working adults, they repeat the year again in a different way.

That repetition depends on what you’re doing, but for baseball players, it always comes back to baseball.

Baseball.

Simply put, a sport that repeats throwing, hitting, catching, throwing, and receiving. But it’s a sport that contains all sorts of profound elements.

This simple yet complex sport can never be played alone, so naturally, a team is necessary.

And, since you can’t get through a long year with just the essential nine players, the members of ‘one team’ become quite numerous.

Each year, someone leaves, and someone else fills that void, but the core remains the same.

“Alright, is everyone here?”

Let’s win.

If you’re an individual, your goal is simply to earn a good living, eat well, and live comfortably, but as a member of a ‘team,’ that becomes a secondary goal.

Let’s win and take the championship.

Right now, at the Miyazaki camp, the goal that about 80 people gathered in the main hall are focused on is both simple and challenging.

Clap!

“Everyone worked hard last year. Thanks to everyone’s efforts, we were able to achieve very good results.”

The manager, who captured everyone’s attention with applause, started his pep talk with praise.

“This is a tricky situation from the manager’s perspective. If the previous season’s results weren’t good, I wouldn’t be too worried. Because everyone would just be hungry for success.”

Hunger.

From the perspective of a professional player whose performance is directly tied to their salary, that drive is an innate talent in some ways.

Since I was sitting quite close to the front in the auditorium, I had to crane my neck and turn around to scan the faces of our team members.

“But if the previous results are good, there are additional concerns. I wonder if these guys are still riding high from last year’s success. Hanwool, where are you?”

“Yes!”

“We finished first in the regular season last year, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Was it good?”

“Yes. It was good.”

“Is that it?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“There’s a lot of regret left.”

“Why?”

“…Partly because I wasn’t a big help to the team in the early part of last year, and also because we ended the season in first place but ultimately lost the Korean Series [the championship series of the KBO, Korean Baseball Organization].”

“Okay.”

What kind of message did the other team members take away from this short conversation?

“Our captain, Hanwool, his season performance alone wasn’t that great. He struggled quite a bit in the beginning.”

You didn’t have to mention that…

“But from the middle of the season, Hanwool was the absolute ace of the bullpen, as good as any other team’s top relievers. Everyone agrees, right?”

Yes!

“When he was a little tired in the second half, when I wondered if he could keep it up, it was thanks to Hanwool that he did. That’s definitely true. That’s how it looks from the manager’s position. Plus, he was the captain, right? It must have been even harder.”

Tap!

When the manager tapped the whiteboard with the end of the marker, where the baseball field’s layout was drawn, the team’s focus temporarily shifted.

The manager took the cap off the marker and wrote my name. And next to it, he added the word ‘Regret’.

“But Hanwool said he still has a lot of regrets. Sunghyun, where are you?”

“Yes!”

This time, Sunghyun.

“Sunghyun, you were the leader of the infielders last year, right?”

“That’s right.”

“How was Sunghyun’s performance last year? Just looking at the regular season.”

“I think it was pretty good.”

In the first year of his free agent (FA) contract, Sunghyun didn’t falter at all, but rather played even better than expected, making people nod and say, ‘Indeed, Kang Sunghyun is worth it.’

“So, was it good?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t perform well enough during the Korean Series.”

“Do you remember your batting average during the Korean Series?”

“…I think it was .160.”

“Are you dissatisfied with that?”

“Yes.”

Especially in the 7th game, the last game of the Korean Series. Sunghyun hit into two double plays in just one game.

Of course, a double play can’t happen unless the ball is hit hard or the opponent makes a good play.

But the negative image that comes from the term ‘double play’ and the resulting impact are so significant that those aspects are often overlooked.

“So, what’s Sunghyun’s goal for this season?”

“My goal is to have a batting average of 1.000 during the Korean Series.”

“Okay.”

Although it’s limited to one series, a batting average of 1.000 is incredibly ambitious.

If someone else had said that, they would have been laughed at, but no one laughed at Sunghyun as he spoke with determination.

“Gyujin. And Myungjin.”

“Yes.”

“Yep!”

When the names of the other two people were called, my heart softened a little, unlike before.

Hyung [older brother or close male friend] Gyujin for me, and Myungjin for Sunghyun.

Each of our closest friends coaxed, supported, and encouraged us, somehow re-signing with their original team.

“This is the first season for both of you after signing your FA contracts, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Yep!”

And are back in this place again.

Hyung Gyujin, a guaranteed amount of 5.1 billion won [approximately $3.8 million USD] over 4 years. Myungjin, 4.2 billion won [approximately $3.1 million USD] over 4 years including options.

According to what Hyung Gyujin had subtly revealed, Wonhara’s proposed amount was the lowest when it came to the guaranteed amount.

There were teams that offered 6 billion won [approximately $4.5 million USD] for a 4-year guarantee, so you have to admit there’s a huge difference.

“It’s your first year after signing the contract, are you going to slack off?”

“No.”

“Can I slack off here just once right now?”

Hahaha!

You crazy bastard.

Thanks to Myungjin, who never stops with his nonsense, the main hall was filled with laughter for a while.

“Okay, Myungjin, well, you can slack off in the hallway later.”

“Wow!”

Why? Why do you really like that?

“Everyone, don’t get complacent from last year’s success. You know there’s still a place we haven’t reached.”

Yes!

“Let’s reach there this time.”

Yes!!

“Okay, dismissed.”

* * *

The ‘concept’ that Seungju talked about last year needs to be decided not only for individuals but also for the team.

Well, not a concept like Wonhara focusing on defense or Viscola on the bullpen, but,

“Are you going to go all-out from the beginning?”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“The second half is more important for you, though.”

“That’s important too.”

Whether to start strong or aim for a comeback in the second half.

Yeah, would the word ‘strategy’ be a little more appropriate than ‘concept’?

Of course, there are advantages and disadvantages to each.

If you start strong, you can maintain good results for a while, but once you start to decline, you’ll collapse in the second half.

If you pace yourself for the second half and conserve energy in the first half, you might end up coasting all season long.

“Wouldn’t it be better to maintain a moderate 2nd or 3rd place and then make a push from behind?”

So, my personal thought for this season is to maintain a decent position in the upper ranks and then make a big push at the end.

While a ranking of 2nd or 3rd is definitely a good result that cannot be ignored,

*Thwack!*

*Thwack!*

Seeing Seonghyun grit his teeth and swing the bat like that,

*Clack!*

“Two outs!”

“Immediate relay!”

Or seeing Myeongjin fly around in the shortstop position like that,

*Bang!*

“Ball to second!”

*Boom!*

“Hey, hey, that’s a natural tag, got him!”

Watching Gyuhak fire a cannon from home to second base, it felt like nothing was impossible.

Moreover,

“This season, I’m really, really going to smash that bastard’s head.”

Even Gyujin hyung, grinding his teeth as he thought about Lee Yongho, who was traded and is a constant opponent we must face on the road to 1st place or the championship.

“I’ll help too.”

“How?”

“If we hit the same spot again, wouldn’t he just die on his own?”

“Deal.”

As spring training progressed, I strongly felt that the skills of the starting players remained consistent, while the skills of the backup members were gradually improving.

A virtuous cycle.

Backup members struggle to take the starting members’ positions. Starting members struggle to escape that threat.

At this point, what I, or all the team members, want becomes simple.

“Donggyun, take it easy. You’re at 100% right now. You don’t need to do that from now on, okay? There’s still time until the season.”

“Yes!”

“How many years have you been a pro now? Four years, right? Now you need to be able to pace yourself. Know what to prioritize and how much effort to put in, and when.”

“Yes!”

“Right now, even 80% is too much. 50% is enough.”

“Yes!”

Those with some experience know that, but the rookies or those who haven’t secured their positions probably feel differently.

Team or championship, whatever, let’s get my spot secured first.

They know better than anyone that if something goes wrong, they’re the only ones who will lose out, but this also comes around,

*Boom!*

“Ah, Donggyun, good!”

The loss is not only to the individual but also to the person in the same position, and furthermore, to the entire team to which they belong.

That’s what a team is. They probably don’t know that far ahead yet.

“Did you prepare your body well?”

“Not 100%. About 50%.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I met with the manager directly after signing the contract and talked a bit. I think it’s not just me. Hyukjoon and Junhyuk too.”

“What did he talk to you about?”

“What are you going to do this season, do you have any personal strategies in mind?”

“Hmm…strategies. What about you, hyung?”

“The second half seems too late. The way I see it…mid-season is a bit late too. Roughly the early to mid-season.”

“You’re going to push from then?”

“Yeah.”

However, the veteran players who are clearly aware of that are different. After organizing their individual thoughts on the season, they act accordingly.

This season, the team seems to be flowing like this, so I should act like this.

Gyujin hyung had a similar yet different perspective to mine when looking at the 2020 season of the Wonha Challengers.

“Group 3, come up to the mound!”

When it was the turn of the pitchers in Group 3, I went up to the mound. Juho happened to be the catcher who would receive my pitches.

“Ah, let’s go, hyungnim [term of respect for an older male]!”

It’s always like this, but especially at this time, the catchers are just overflowing with fighting spirit.

*Boom!*

“Shiaaak! Good!!”

To the point where the bullpen, which is somewhat biased, roars so loudly that people who don’t know might just point fingers and say it’s noisy, why are they shouting like that,

*Clack!*

“Aaaah, good ball!!”

This ritual refines the pitcher’s confidence and at the same time,

*Boom!*

“Ugh, you really can’t hit this!!”

It’s like hypnosis they put on themselves.

*Boom!*

“Nice ball!!”

I can do it. This season, I’m a really awesome catcher.

*Thud!*

“Hyung, hyung, a bit more, you can just pull it down!”

“Ah, okay!”

Even in the midst of that, if there’s any advice they can give to the pitcher, they give it all without holding back.

Thanks to that,

*Clack!*

“Good ball!!”

The curveball, which had once been buried in the ground, regained its senses and stuck into Juho’s mitt.

“Hanwool.”

“Yes?”

“Did you see anything after going to the Premier12 [international baseball tournament]?”

“Ah…”

While I was throwing the ball, the manager, who was watching from the side, came over and asked a question. Thanks to the temporary break, I adjusted my hat and thought.

“Rather than seeing something…there’s just one thing I felt after the tournament ended.”

“What is it?”

“Just…”

*Thwack!*

*Thwack!*

Three balls, three strikes!

Ah, nice!!

I trailed off and stared for a moment beyond the open ceiling of the bullpen. I could hear the sounds of well-hit balls being made by the batters, and the shouts of the fielders designating their defensive positions.

As I stared blankly outside, the manager glanced in the same direction as me. But after confirming that there was nothing there, he looked back at me.

“Really, at the very end. I really liked the ceremony at the very end.”

I remembered the moment when the entire team ran out onto the mound, holding their thumbs up above their heads and celebrating.

The moment when we truly conquered everything and received confirmation that we were at the top of all the teams.

“Ceremony?”

“Yes. I just thought it would be really nice if we could do something like that at the end of this season too.”

It was a completely random thought, but the manager seemed to understand what I was trying to say right away.

As we smiled and looked at each other with satisfaction, I suddenly remembered one of the stories I had shared with the four members born in ’89.

“Ah, that’s right. Manager. So, last year, my classmates and I came up with a ceremony.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s…this.”

Slowly, I explained the selfie ceremony to the manager. After listening to the explanation, the manager had a blank expression for a moment.

“…Explain it to the kids yourself.”

“Yes, sir!”

With the special mission on my back, I started spreading the selfie ceremony to the players whenever there was something good after finishing bullpen pitching.

Just one day.

“Eiii!”

“Ah, click!”

In just one day, the selfie ceremony started trending within the team.